


The Crisp of Spring

by aspentree11



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 04:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15811353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspentree11/pseuds/aspentree11
Summary: "You know what I'm talking about," his old friend said, an edge to his voice now. "I felt it the second you took her from my arms. You're her mate. But…you already knew that, didn't you?" After Jurian offers to help Tamlin rebuild his court preceding the war, Tamlin finds that being a High Lord is more than just ruling - it's about changing too. Or at least, that's what he thought until an old friend, a dead lover, and all of the memories he had forgotten, comes back to live. (After ACOWAR)





	The Crisp of Spring

Numb. That’s all he could feel. Numbness. The paper, now crumbled and nothing more than trash, fell down his lap and rolled against his foot. Sighing, Tamlin leaned back in his wooden chair and digested the room around him. Or at least, all that was left.  
If his old study wasn’t trashed before, this one certainly was. Holes, everywhere. In the desk in front of him, in the paintings, through the walls. Beside him, he noticed a smashed vase – his mother’s favorite vase. A voice inside him said that he did it– he hit and clawed and yanked and abused this house until he could see from the other side. And yet, he had no recollection – no remembrance of that day. That day they left. But he saw it. He saw it everywhere. It wasn’t the only damage left either - doors were torn off and there was yet to be a window unbroken. But, still, the events were a haze. He didn’t remember the servants running out and fleeing, or looking at the smug look that was probably plastered on Hybern’s face. But, it didn’t matter – it was impossible. All he had to fill in the story was the wreck in front of him – the trashed, ridden mansion. Five hundred years, maybe plus that, and there wasn’t a bone in his body that made him feel like he could even face it. He couldn’t look at his mistakes, his past, every day. Thankfully, people have finally began returning to the villages, relieving some of his stress. Now, at least his kingdom was fixable. But as he looked down at the crumbled paper resting against his foot, he knew it wasn’t enough.  
Thank you.  
I hope you have happiness too.  
And he thought that would be happiness for him – her, shriveled on the ground at his disposal, and Rhysand dead. But apparently not.  
“Apparently not,” He said aloud, rubbing his forehead. His eyes were heavy, but there was no way he could sleep. How could he? Everything was gone, he thought as he dug his head in his hands. My friend, my lover, my court. This, and this broken house, was all he had left.  
“Ah, are you still wallowing over that letter Fox-Boy gave to you during his mediocre apology? Pretty morbid, I think, rubbing a man’s heartbreak right in his face and then darting away to meet his happily ever two seconds later.” Crunch. He looked up slowly, eyeing the male in front of him. The male was leaning against the half broken door casually as he flaunted the piece of fruit.  
“Where did you get that?” He asked coldly, his eyes narrowing on the apple. His fingers gripped the half-broken desk as he leaned forward, causing it groan. “Did you take that from one of the cartons of fruit I was sending out to the villages?” The figure shrugged lazily, rolling his eyes as he did so.  
“Nobody seemed keen to it,” He responded. “Also, you do know that the sink in the kitchen is broken? I-”  
“Jurian, are you getting your painting or not?” He had meant for it to come out snappily but the words merely hung out in the air limply, as if the life inside him was truly gone. “Don’t you have a court to go to? Somewhere to be?” Ah, yes, Jurian. This morning he had heard a knock at the door, with Jurian waiting lazily on the other side. When he demanded an explanation, Jurian began rasping about some painting he had left in one of the guestrooms. Tamlin was too empty, too broken, to decline. Jurian had walked in before Tamlin could even mutter a reply and told him he would leave immediately after he retrieved it. Though, looking back on it, Tamlin wasn’t sure why he would bother to come back for a mediocre painting in the first place.  
Jurian’s shoulder slumped forward, biting into the apple again.  
“Firstly, it was a sketch,” Jurian said as he walked towards him and rested his hands on the broken desk. “Secondly, this place is a fucking mess. And this time you don’t have Feyre Cursebreaker to fix it.” A pang hit Tamlin’s gut when he said – when he said her name. And maybe he saw that, because almost instantly Jurian leaned off the desk, the smug look washing off his face. He was quiet for a moment as he looked Tamlin over twice, something Tamlin, who had met Jurian on multiple occasions, couldn’t quite depict. No, it wasn’t pity, nor sympathy. Desperation flickered, it seemed.  
“I have nowhere to go,” Jurian admitted quietly, his voice breaking at the end. “I-I could go help Vassa but I…You need an emissary, now that that Fox-Boy-”  
“Lucien.”  
“Right, Lucien, is gone,” Jurian said. “I could be that, at least for now. Until this place actually looks relatively livable.” His eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. Carefully, steadily, Tamlin rose from his chair and stepped around the desk to face him.  
“You were an undercover agent for majority of the time that I knew you,” Tamlin said coolly, “Why should I even let you spend the night?” He stepped closer to Tamlin this time as well, his eyes shining.  
“Because it’s better than being alone,” He pointed out. Tamlin’s lips slammed shut. Anger was building inside of him, begging to be left out. How dare he mock me while he was the one so vulnerable? But he pushed it down. He couldn’t be that person. He didn’t have the energy to be that person.  
“Fine,” Tamlin sneered. “If you want to help, you could start with actually sending out the fruit. Also, I’m going to need letters to be sent about employment. I…we need some sentries in here. And some servants.”  
“Of course, My Lord,” Jurian said sarcastically but he could swear, just as he walked out of the room, that there was a sparkle of glee in his eyes.  
~*~ discidium ~*~  
It was shining outside. It was actually shining. Tamlin scanned the outdoors in awe. When the war began, everything in his court died. The trees, the leaves, the flowers. The sun even seemed like it had dimmed – as if its life source really did run off of him. Of course, it didn’t help that when Feyre and Lucien left, Tamlin fled from his castle to go after them and the few times he did go back to the estate, he didn’t have any plans to stay long. But now he was here and it was shining.  
“Are you going hunting today, my lord?” A voice behind him chimed. He turned around, facing the new servant. She was the first one to be employed in his castle again and she wasn’t a day over seventeen. At first she seemed timid in working here but now she seemed as if working here was a luxury. He decided, after Jurian hired her without Tamlin’s permission, that he was going to do it different this time. He wanted to actually know the people he worked with, the people who were willing to die for him. He wanted to know their names and their lovers and their families. He wanted them to be his family, just like the Night Court. He didn’t want them to be silent.  
“Not today. I’m going to let the villagers have their chance to hunt for some food,” He told her, “Though, it would be great if you could get Jurian to go. I don’t need his griping this morning.” He could tell by the way her lip twitched that she was trying not to laugh.  
“He hunted this morning, my lord,” She told him. “But-” And then he heard his voice, screaming from the end of the hall.  
“Tamlin!” He shouted. He rolled his eyes.  
“Tam! Tam!”  
“What did I say about you calling me that?” Tamlin snarled back. Jurian came into view, a smirk on his lips. Jurian was different than Lucien in many ways. Firstly, he didn’t care for any sort of rules whatsoever, unless he gained something from it. He had no concern for social boundaries, orders or a sense of code. Secondly, he wasn’t afraid to test him. More specifically, he wasn’t afraid of the beastly High Lord at all. At first it was infuriating but through time Tamlin realized he did not want another emissary who was afraid of him. He wanted one who would argue with him, who would stop him from becoming the monster that Feyre so dearly loathed. Except, unfortunately, Jurian many times took it too far.  
“It’s the only way I can get your attention,” He said, smirking. “I got a message from Helion-”  
“Helion?” Tamlin snarled distastefully, taking a step towards him. “The battle was weeks ago. What does he want?” Jurian shrugged casually, rolling his eyes.  
“Don’t ask me. I always thought he was a bit of a-”  
“Jurian, what does it say?”  
“Apparently he wants to have dinner with you,” Jurian muttered. Tamlin’s eyebrows scrunched down.  
“And why would he ever want that?” He replied sharply.  
“Don’t ask me how High Lords think. There’s a reason why I’d rather be an emissary than a High Lord.”  
“At least humor me, Jurian,” Tamlin growled.  
“Maybe it’s because you have refused to respond to any other courts since the battle and saying as you and I both are known for our, ah, double siding history, that maybe we should finally indulge in his offering?” Tamlin waved his hand at him dismissively.  
“Just tell him I have no interest in speaking to other courts right now.” Jurian sighed.  
“I’ll tell him you’re busy,” Jurian decided, and then swaggered out of the room as if he had never walked in.  
~*~ discidium ~*~  
His fingers were shaking. He tried to hide it by tapping on the arm of the throne, but the nearest sentry, Jon, glanced back at the High Lord every time his fingers hit the wood arm. Jurian, who loomed over the High Lord of Spring’s throne impatiently with his hands shoved into his pockets, looked unusually bored.  
“What is it, Jurian?” Tamlin said tightly. Jurian looked at him, an eyebrow perched up.  
“Hmm?”  
“You want to say something. Let it out,” He hissed. People were starting to gather, he realized. It was only minutes before this would begin. It would be smart for Jurian to get it out now.  
“I think it’s too early,” Jurian said under his breath. “Nobody has the money or resources, Tamlin. Not even us.” Tamlin tilted his head to the side, just enough to show his livid disagreement.  
“The tithe is not near as much as it normally is,” he countered, “And the tithe will bring the land together. It’ll remind them that these gifts are an act of patriotism, a symbol that our territory is-”  
“Absolutely foolish,” Jurian finished. “It’s autocratic. Now that they have heard of the great-” Jurian stopped for just a split second, just long enough for him to realize that the words coming were not the words he wanted to hear. “The High Lord of Night and his sacred city of Velaris would never do this, especially if the city was in deprivation.” The High Lord of Spring’s eyes, cold as ice, glared at Julian, along with a low snarl.  
“Don’t you ever bring up the Night Court in my-”  
“I’m not threatening you, Tamlin,” he said, just as coolly, “Just warning you. But you do whatever you want to do, Tamlin. It’s your land that’s starving, not anybody else’s.” Before Tamlin could reply, the first participant stepped forward. He leaned back in his chair while Jurian looked forward. Tamlin’s hands trembling slightly against the arm of his chair, he analyzed the participant.  
It was a water wraith. A very, very familiar water wraith. While the water wraith’s face was cold as stone, he knew that the water wraith was thinking about the same exact thing based upon the twinkle in her eyes. Her body was stiff, straight as a line. No, she did not look afraid, but she did reflect a look that showed she did not trust him. Her arms were abnormally skinny for kind and she did not look like she expected anything from him. Especially not patriotism.  
“We’ve met before,” Tamlin murmured, breaking the tense silence. She didn’t even bother to address her High Lord properly.  
“Yes, we have,” she simply said. Tamlin looked at the basket in her hand. Slowly, she unraveled it.  
“A fish,” she said, “For our High Lord.” A fish. Only one. Tamlin’s head shot to his emissary, and found Jurian’s eyes flickering. He turned back to the water-wraith.  
“No more than one?” Tamlin asked tightly. Her lips thinned.  
“The War was costly even on us, my lord,” She said. “We brought all we could spare.” And as he stood there, starring at her, nobody made a sound. Tamlin glanced at his sentries who hadn’t let out a breath. Everybody was watching closely, bracing for the impact. But his eyes dropped to the fish again.  
“No,” Tamlin replied. She blinked at him, this time taking a desperate step towards him.  
“My Lord-”  
“Keep it,” He said, with his palms facing her. “My sentries will come by your pond tomorrow and give you some resources in order to help your sisters from starving.” The water wraith’s posture softened. Though the lack of trust in her eyes did not fade, she looked calmer.  
“We won’t forget this gratitude,” She whispered. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jurian was fighting a smile.  
Without leaning towards him, Tamlin whispered, “Make it known to our visitors that the Tithe will not be occurring today. Instead, I will be giving out resources for their brave acts during the war.”  
~*~ discidium ~*~  
“So you’re just not going to show up at all? The Great Rite?”  
“I never said that,” Tamlin replied dryly. “I just said I wasn’t going to-” His voice stopped and he swallowed. Julian, with his hands shoved in his pockets, fumed at his superior. “I’m just not participating in the ceremony itself, that’s all.”  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” He murmured, laughing under his breath. “Seriously? Seriously?” Tamlin eyed him coldly. Breathe, a voice inside him said, breathe.  
“I’m a High Lord,” Tamlin reminded him sternly. “I can do whatever I please.”  
“Yes, the High Lord of Spring. In which the Great Rite is honoring. I don’t care what happened last year – I am not Lucien. There is no way I’m going to let you bail out on that ceremony.” Tamlin rose from his chair.  
“Don’t push me, Jurian.”  
“If you think I’m participating for you, you’re out of your mind.”  
“I never asked you to,” He snarled. Jurian opened his mouth, a cold, mirthless smile on his face, and Tamlin was sure the next remark would send him over the edge, but then a knock interrupted them. Jurian’s smile faltered and Tamlin’s back loosened.  
“Esmeralda, who is that?” Tamlin shouted. Jurian’s eyes still held onto his. The sound of a door opening made Tamlin stiffen, an unusual freeze filling the house quickly. After about five seconds of silence of shouted, sharply now, “Esmeralda, who is it?”  
“I-I think you should come to the door, My Lord,” Her voice cracked. He growled under his breath, his eyes glaring at Jurian. This conversation isn’t over. Jurian’s eyebrows flickered up testily. Tamlin tore away from his gaze and began walking towards the door. Jurian, as he did when he was angry, followed him.  
“Can you at least think about it?” Jurian hissed, as they turned the corner into a hallway. Tamlin glanced back at him.  
“No, I will not think about it. I know what I want,” Tamlin hissed back. At the end of the hallway, one of the double doors was wide open. He looked at Esmeralda’s large eyes, and she looked uncomfortable. Uneasy.  
“Is that what you told Lucien last year when-” And then, as Tamlin looked through doorway, brushing Esmeralda aside, Jurian’s voice stopped. Tamlin didn’t even finish letting out his breath. His eyes, unblinking, stared at the person in front of him. Once again, like months and months before, he felt numb. Broken.  
“Hi, Tam,” The opposing voice let out. Jurian cursed behind him.  
“Hello, Lucien,” He heard himself say. To his demise, he didn’t look much different than the last time he had seen him. He was wearing a purple tunic, with dark pants and hiking boots. His red hair was tied back, with a few strands falling out. His eyes, shining with nervousness, looked the High Lord over. Tamlin couldn’t help but stare at his necklace – black obsidian. He was still a part of the Night Court.  
Tamlin’s eyes tore away from him and looked down at the girl beside him. She was much shorter – almost looked like a child compared to Lucien’s large self. She was dressed in black, giving the High Lord a small smile. There was nothing uneasy in her eyes, no fear. Instead, she was holding a small flower at her side. She held it out to him. Automatically, as if he couldn’t control his own body, Tamlin took the small flower. He looked at the flower and then looked back at her.  
“I found this a few miles back,” She said. “I just wanted to-”  
“You’re Feyre’s sister,” he said aloud. Almost instantly, Lucien scrunched back, his arms tightening around the girl.  
“Her name is Elain,” He said, his voice harder. “And we were wondering-”  
“Did the Night Court kick you out so easily?” Jurian sneered behind him. His tone made Tamlin blink rapidly. Since when did he have issues with the Night Court? Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on Jurian coldly but before Lucien could retort with a remark that would make Jurian go spiraling, Tamlin held out his hand to silence his present emissary.  
“Excuse my new emissary, he is still learning the art of communication,” Tamlin said, shooting Jurian a warningly look. The last thing he needed was to appear weak in front of his former friend. “But I’m not going to stop him for being suspicious. I may be on…neutral terms with the Night Court, but that does not mean I’m interested in a new alliance. Especially without even sending a letter first.” His eyes dropped back at the girl. This must have been his mate, he remembered suddenly. But the last time he checked, there were rumors that she was with the shadowsinger. Of course, that was months ago.  
“We’re here for personal reasons,” Lucien replied. One of his eyebrows perked up, slightly interested.  
“And why would you need my help? Especially on a day like this where I’m supposed to be preparing for Calanmai?” Tamlin asked coolly, ignoring Jurian’s huff. Lucien looked at him and then look at his mate. To his surprise, she stepped forward.  
“I had a vision,” she said. “That you would need us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please give comments! This is the first time on Ao3. I usually post my stories on fanfic but I wanted to try some of my stories out on here. this story was originally in first person so I apologize if there are some errors


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